Dainbramage

Waiting for a Ride

Hi everyone.

I suppose you could say the seizures are down overall.  But just as I think I am 'free', one comes along and reminds me that my chances of driving again are about the same as the survival stats of blue eyeshadow at an Osco near Tammy Faye.  So I spend a lot of time waiting for rides.   This typically is not that fun, but then I started waiting for rides outside the studio.  For anyone in KC, the station is on The corner of Westport and SW TRFW, upstairs from the Bluestem.  So I wait on the corner opposite where Spiveys used to be. 

Before I go on, I need to caution younger readers or older people that offend easily.  Unless you have an understanding of the following topics and how, when woven together, can be funny:  Graphic sexuality, Alcoholism and Mental illness.  If you feel ready....

I was waiting for Amy to pick me up after she had gotten off work.   I was watching for her car when I noticed a woman walking towards me on Westport.  The instant I saw her the 'nutjob approaching' circuit tripped and I started looking for escape routes- those basic survival tactics that kept some ancient joe from being eaten by a cave bear.   So I was minimally prepared when she stopped and spoke to me.

The initial communication with a crazy person is very important.  The best you can hope for is a mutual, 'hey'.   One of the worst beginnings is a request for the time.  This is a bad omen because by providing a response you are now communicating and that common social wall is broken opening the door for additional give and terrify.  It also indicates the lack of a capacity to comprehend time(not good) or a large period of missing time(aliens are the best case scenario here).

You can guess the question I get.  She did not wait a moment after my response before leaping into the crazy aether.  Did she soften me up with any other small talk?  No.  This is the next thing she says.

'I met a hot guy today named Wade.  He couldn't make me cum for two hours.  Has that ever happened to you?'

I told her no although I really don't know what question I was answering.  Given unlimited time and a strong desire to avoid my wife and son pull up and see me in a conversation with this unsatisfied little jewel, there are several responses that could have taken us to even higher levels of weird. 'I have never met a hot guy named Wade.  When Wade fucks me I usually ring like a church bell.  Most women I am with orgasm without break for three hours or more.'  Ah well.  Hind site is funnier.

Not to disappoint, she keeps things lively.  'Maybe it was because my ex-husband was banging on the door.' 

I agree that this could be problematic for both she and Wade.

'Maybe I should go to AA'

'Are you doing that today?'

She nodded yes and then indicated she had been told it was at a place called the Plaza.  Is there a church at 47th and Jefferson?   Without fail, my trusty wife pulls up in her shining silver steed.  I indicated it was time for me to go and pointed in the general direction of where she was going.  Stepping into the warm car Amy asked me, 'Who was that crazy person you were talking to?'

Should I have given her a ride?  Maybe, but I am glad that I didn't hear her ask my son from the back seat, 'Is your name Wade?'

I feel great and the last round of chemo was breeze.  I am the luckiest guy in the world.  Thanks for reading and sending your good thoughts and prayers.

jobey

Fear the Loober

Hi everyone.

Have you noticed that there are well meaning people in your life that spend far too much time thinking about the dryness of your skin?  When the dryness level of someone they know exceeds a  some freakish subjective level they become fairly obsessed in correcting it with the forced application of creams and lotions that they seem to keep in tremendous supply.  Like ammunition in a war that only they believe is being waged, the tubes and bottles fill holsters that masquerade as purses. 

Amy suffers from this affliction; this need to neep all the world smooth and moist.   I suffer as well.  I enjoy my dry skin.  I enjoy scratching my legs a little before I get in bed.  But most importantly, I detest feeling oily.  Not being able to open the bathroom door because of my last 'treatment' is a hell reserved only for those who love a 'loober'. 

The most insideous attack involves placing lotion on the palm of her hand and then depositing the glob upon the back on my hand in some violent jergens drive by.  Let me clarify the term glob.  A glob is not an ammount of lotion that can be easily rubbed into the hands.  It is a volume that would be suffecient to soften the Knights Templar occupying the holy land during the crusades to the point of being unable to hold a weapon.  The last time I attempted to absorb the 'glob' I killed a neighbor when I picked up the remote control.  He came over to watch a basketball game and left with a piece of plastic reading Toshiba sticking out of his cranium.

But it is my lot and I accept it.  I do offer a warning to anyone who visits.  Touch me at your own peril.  The last person who shook my hand was unable to start his car for almost an hour.  I need to go now.  It has taken me almost 72 hours to type this post, I am horribly dehydrated and surrounded by broken glass.

Send help if you can. 

jobey

A Job

Hey folks.

I got a job that I can do regardless of how many seizures I have.  It is with JCrew.  They sell a line of broken in clothing.  I am a breaker-inner.  They send me clothes, I wear them and then I send them back.  The base pay is only $4.25 per hour but there is a sliding scale on top of that depending on how I break them in.  Watching sporting events adds a little.   Looking at boats puts me into a higher earning category as does cooking with papaya or guacamole.  Trying to get laid adds quite a bit.  Amy was not thrilled at all about that until she found out that my hourly salary for trying to score with women who have documented eating disorders while they are looking at boats is about $182.50.  She drove me to the marina.

Yes, she had to drive me.  It may be a long while before I can drive again.  The state says I need to be seizure free for six months and I may personally wait longer just to be sure.  It has been a little over one week.  Overall, the frequency is down but the intensity is still a 9.65 on the 'rock your ass' meter.   But who am I to complain?  Life is pretty damn good.  The bulbs are coming up and spring will make it.   I am still volunteering at the local public radio station and having a great time.  So much music in the world and so very little time.

Keep your heart warm through this last bit of cold.  Watch the sun come up and go down.  You will not regret it.  So much beauty in the world and every moment to take it in.  That is one of the things that makes this comedy more fun.

For the Insurance agencies that are monitoring this- I did not really get a job doing this.  JCREW doesn't pay people to wear clothes to break them in.  They pay people in other countries to beat them against rocks.

jobey

Chemo for Intelligently Designed Cat's Asses

Morning

I am up way too early on a Saturday.  This is due partly to the person who called and hung up(may a hallucinogenic toad shit in your mouth), but mostly to my cat's licking of his backside.   I will expand on that later but provide the latest medical news now so squeamish readers can bail out before the real fun begins.

We visited with doc Taylor early Friday morning.  There was some confusion about the appointment time so Amy and I had the opportunity to enjoy a waffle in the Med Center cafeteria.  The visit began with my favorite cognitive tests where we discovered that I continue to be able to follow fingers with my eyeballs and touch my nose.   Next came the lab results of  my blood which continues to be perfect.  You might not even guess that I was on chemo.   The lab measured the size of some key cells.  These cells were smaller than they should have been indicating that they were newer.  This is an excellent chunk of knowledge as it indicates my body is replacing the cells that have been destroyed.  Overall, I am one healthy dude.  I attribute this to Chris for his acupuncture and herbal mastery and to my continued belief that it is impossible for sickness to exist in a body that loves and laughs.

I had an opportunity to laugh to excess this week.  I was able to attend the premiere of a new documentary by Randy Olson titled A Flock of Dodos.   The film explores the debate between evolution and intelligent design that is currently impacting the curriculums of students in the state of Kansas.  The movie does have a slant towards the evolution side but this is easily accomplished by straightforward interviews of ID proponents.  My favorite segment of the film involves the discussion of the design of the human heart with a man who has had eight bypasses.  He points out that there is no alternate way for blood out of the heart and that any problem with the aorta results in complete failure.  This heart, which shares the same basic design principles as the heart of a fish, is really only good for cardiologists. 

Ultimately, I am really stunned that the two sides cannot find a resolution.  I certainly can incorporate evolution into my faith.  Having said that, I cannot put the Joe stamp of approval on the idea of intelligent design being science.  If good science principles were followed, as Amy pointed out, ID would have started as a hypothesis and then tested.  This never happened and will never happen.  ID is not science and should never be mandated to kids as such.  It is religion and should stay at home.  I don't have a problem with your faith, just don't teach it to my kid. (See Constitution  http://www.cs.indiana.edu/statecraft/constitution.html).

Now for the fun stuff.  Our cat Jazz likes to lick his butt.  I am fine with that-I am a tolerant person.  The problem is that he is a little loud.  To my ears it is a cross between a five year old sucking jello through a straw and the sound of sanding granite.   Oh yeah, and it is loud.  When he sits on the end of the bed and does it at 6:00 am, it wakes you up.  He does it when he wants food.  He knows it will wake me up. Kicking him off the bed is not a fix.  You can hear him in the next room.  It gets into your brain and festers.  Pavlov would love the way that fat cat has me trained.  Lick ass here-big dude give food.

Well that is enough for today.  I am healthy.  I think the concept (not theory) of intelligent design is crazy.  My cat controls me with his ass.  This is my life and I love every second of it.  I am the luckiest man in the world and I am going to hit enter and dance.  I suggest you do as well.

jobey

Nut Jobs

Squirrells are evil little monsters.  In the spring they eat the seads and small plants that I put into the yard depriving me of the their beauty and bounty.   In the fall they destroy the pumpkins that decorate the porch.  They fill the spaces in-between by defying the efforts of designers the world over and eat the the seads that I have carefully prepared for the beatiful songbirds.  In a final sign of ignominy, the cheeky little aboreal rodents are trying to injure my cats.

You read correctly.  I saw it happen.  I often leave the front door open in the mornings so I can look through the glass door while sit at the desk.   Two cats live with Amy and I: Frank and Jazz.  Lacking claws, they are indoor cats.  Lacking the desire to do anything of a physical nature, they are large - bigboned as Amy would say.  They need a stool to get up on our bed, but I digress......

They enjoy sitting near the door and fondly looking into they natural world which they cannot venture into.  Directly across from the glass door are the steps that allow access to the yard.  As I glanced outside I saw a squirrell pop his head up over the porch from the top step.  Predatory neural pathways inside of Frank's tiny brain, dormant for years, suddenly shouted to thick legs, "Squirrell!  Holy Shit Go Get em!"  The forward velocity his rotund body generated was incredible for approximately fourteen inches.  I am still recovering from the boom of the impact.  The door will probably need to be replaced.

Was this enough for Shadow Tail? ( I looked it up.  That is what the Greeks called them.  I bet Plato finished off a dialogue on Social Harmony and then tossed one of the little shits off his balcony.)   NO, it was not enough.  The squirrell tried again.  For a full fifteen minutes it popped its head up trying to get a repeat.  Fortunately, Frank was too dazed for vision and Jazz no longer has any predatory instincts.   But that little shit didn't give up. 

So please do not act surprised if you come visit and I am rocking on the porch with pelet gun. 

I am otherwise well.  I finished another cycle of chemo on Saturday and have a bit of a cold to show for it.

joe

Seized

Hi folks.

After three weeks of life without a hint of seizure, one tagged me.  It was Sunday morning and I had just returned from my morning ritual of getting the paper, checking out the sunrise, looking at the new shoots coming up in the bulb garden, and eyeballing the retaining wall I am planning.  I opened the front door and the flash bulb went off in my head.  I sat down on the bench immediately and tried to weather the storm without Amy noticing.  She is really good at sniffing them out because by the time it was over she was in the room, holding my hand, and wiping the drool off my coat.  Yes drool.  I wish I had a picture of me sitting there with a big ol string of drool trailing out of a stupid look on my face.  So a new obsession has begun.

I have never seen myself seize up.  I want to.  So if I happen to be hanging out with any of you, and I fall down the furry mental tube, please take my picture.  I would like to see how out of it I look from the outside.  I promise to post the picture without any edits so everyone can enjoy it.

Love to the folks who still come around and look.

jobey

Hot Sauce, Soft Wood, Drugs and Tunes

I am a certified Taco Bell Junky.   No where on earth is $3.00 more valuable.  People watching at TB is at a premium.  I frequently encounter trophies that are only bagged at much larger venues such as football games.  Domestic disputes are not uncommon and apathy runs high.

To improve upon this already gas fueled festival of insanity, TB has begun placing these zen-like sayings on the sauce packets which are just brilliant.  A sampling of these includes:

I fear bike tires, how many of these do you already have in your glove compartment?, nice palm- I read a great deal of pleasure in your future, do you add sauce left to right or right to left?, not to be used as a flotation device, be gentle, and .... use your stomach-nacho mind.  If you are interested in a fuller perusal please follow the link below to the Condiment Packet Museum.  Oh yeah...finally someone with even more free time than your very own Tumorless Joe. 

http://www.clearfour.com/condiment/tbsauce.html

Now for some seizure news.  Amy and I visited a neurologist on Thursday.  We liked talking with her.   It was an interesting time for the appt as I have not had a seizure while I was awake in almost three weeks.  We did have a lot of conversation about trying to continue this success while moving to some new medications.  She feels that Dylantin is a 'dirty drug' because it interacts with many other drugs and it is not the best long-term solution.  My other anti-seizure med has an unwanted side-effect that I would like to get away from.

It gives me unwanted erections.  They are not the viagra type; although I have never taken it so I really don't know.  It is more of a half-chub but it lasts all day.   So it ends up not being anything for Amy to write home about but  I can't leave the house in sweats.   The doc assured me that this current med has a 'cousin drug' that she is not aware of any reported half-chub issues.  I am not comfortable with the words cousin and drug being related but the alternative is really getting on my nerves.  Plus, I live one block from a school so it is only a matter of time before the police come to have a chat.

(The above erection references are fictional and not intended to cause anyone anxiety.  It has been included because a recent poll of my demographics indicate that 78% of my readers like boner jokes.) 

Finally, I have been volunteering at KKFI radio the last several weeks.  It has been tremendous fun.  I am currently working on music cataloging project that involves listening to new music and making recommendations to the on-air staff on the best tracks and occasionally canning stuff early so they do not have to waste time listening to the really bad stuff.  It is a blast!  Several volunteers sit in a room with disc players and headphones and just listen to tunes.  Everyone has a genre that they are familiar with and that they work in.  So you get to know a really wide range of very cool people who have all kinds of musical tastes.  We also share the really good and the violently horrible with each other.  I am working primarily in the folk and occasionally country areas.  I would like to do a few hours in the jazz area but there are so many people in that station who know so much about Jazz it wouldn't make sense for me to listen to that.  Not that I am a huge country nut but I can seperate good musicianship from the label manufactured crap (Country Backstreet Boys).

So to summarize a long bunch of babble:  I feel good, NO seizures for almost three weeks, new neurologist that we like, NO erection issues and Volunteering is good.  Here are a few music discoveries that were pointed out or I discovered: 

Bill Dees  'Castin my Spell on You' - bluesy, honky tonkin, rock that is just damn good.  The guy has pipes and can play the piano with the best of em.

Copperpot  "Chapter 7' - Rap with some incredible sampling that includes an accordian.  The guy reviewing the hiphop stuff just called it 'Whack'

Hiromi  'I didn't get the name of the album' - Electronic fusion jazz that Sun Ra would have been damn proud of.  This is a musical amphetamine. 

Wow- the longest post in a while.  Thanks for sticking with me.  For those of you who have written me about your own tumor or one that is annoying someone you love, please write back.  I won't preach but I can answer any questions.

love to everyone

joe

Anniversary and Chicken Lips

Hi everyone.

Yesterday was a one year anniversary of two significant events in my life.  The first was Amy and I moving into our home and the second was the beginning of my disability.    It is boggling to me.   Seizures, surgery, radiation and chemo typically contribute to a very bad year.  The truth is that this was one of the finest that I have seen. 

I have discovered a strength and power that I had no idea were inside me.  I also learned that living in fear is the greatest waste of your life there is; horrible things will happen to you and those around you so stop worrying and start hugging.  More importantly, I was reminded how fortunate I am because there are people near and far who care for me.   So to all of you who prayed,  sent good thoughts and helped myself and Amy through this year, thank you so very much.

....and now for something truly funky......

Remember those songs from childhood that were great at grossing out your mom?  Can you summon such hits as Great Green Globs of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts and The Old Family Toothbrush, or has MS Outlook shortcuts and American Idol reruns stripped out all of the words except a few precious phrases?  Now you can polish up on the full lyrics so you can appropriately pass these gems on to the next generation. 

Two aging but still freaky folks, the GrandFolkies, have a website for you.  Not only are the full lyrics available, you can also stream and download the actual songs as performed by the Grandfolkies.  If you bounce around the site and find the homepage, you will be treated to an actual photo of the nutty couple and links to other categories of music they have recorded on fiddle and auto harp.   I suggest you follow the link, learn the song Chicken Lips, sing it to your boss and vow to age in a disturbing way.

http://www.grandfolkies.com/ysmp.htm

love to everyone

jobey

Tilting and Seizing

Hi everyone.

Aiden attended a friend's birthday party this last Saturday at this crazy arcade.  Under one huge roof they had all of the standard video games, air hockey, a playground and a Tilt-a-Whirl.  I do not mean that it was some silly little toddler-friendly machine that went in circles but a full on carnival size spinner.  I could still smell the K-weed  smoke from the tooth challenged carneys that operated it for years and feel the echoes of the countless fifteen-year-old boys who talked their girl friends into a ride so they could cop a cheap feel.

The only reasons I knew I was not at  the carnival which used to set up on the old hill at 63rd and Quivira was that it was inside and that it was operated by serious faced teenagers.  I believe that the stern face is drilled into them by management to make people more comfortable with the fact that you are placing your life into the hands of someone who practiced driving that morning at the high school parking lot with their new permit. 

I rode with my son and a good friend of his.  Neither had ever even seen a Tilt-a-Whirl.  I sat in the middle and made sure they didn't go shooting out.  They were laughing before the car started moving and it escalated to full shouting when the first hard Gs hit.  I shouted with them.  By the end of the ride I had both of them yelling with me,"Bring it! Bring it!  Is that all you got?"

It was simply glorious.   Find a carnival, ride with a kid, scream your ass off and watch the kid's face the entire ride and then make sure you smile that way at least once a day forever. 

......and now for some tips about seizing.... Avoid them if you can.   If you must have one, sit down as soon as it starts coming.  If you are with someone, tell them what is about to happen and that they do not need to do anything and that this is, unfortunately, normal.  It is important to let them know what is coming so they do not get uncomfortable or freak out.    Take the initial rush straight on.  Don't try to make it go away-it will not.  Dare it mess with you.  Keep your mouth closed.  Even close friends are not comfortable with drool.  Do not avoid hallucinations.  Strike up a conversation.  It might be more enlightening than you think.  When you think it is over, wait five more minutes before you get up.  When you do get up, have some cold water.  It clears your head and gets rid of that horrible dry mouth.  If you were with anyone, thank them and make sure they know that you are OK.  Answer any questions they have.  Use the opportunity to move forward in line or take advantage of other social situations. 

My seizure frequency is going down.  Unfortunately, the ones I do have are harvey wallbangin, hallucinating, stunners that just blow my mental doors off.  I stay conscious but I am pretty far out of it.  I always hallucinate now but have come to terms with that. 

Thank you again to everyone who supported, prayed, sent good thoughts, drove me around, helped Amy, and made me laugh over the last year.  Your healing touches have helped change me forever and I love you.  It means everything to me.

jobey

Light Headed

Hi everyone.

Great news on the tumah front.   Growing weary of slashing blades, radioactive baking, and nuclei zapping drugs, my passenger has decided to exit my brainbox and take up residence in the left ass cheek of a bolivian donkey named prospero.

That's right folks,  my latest MRI indicates that the tumah that tried to establish a foothold in the pink folds between my ears is gone.  There may be a few cells still hanging out but they are of insuffecient numbers to be detectable the MRI tube.   I will complete my remaining seven chemo cycles to ensure that any stragglers get killed deader than the career of  Billy Squire but the tumah that I was diagnosed with over two years ago no longer exists.  I will be seeing a neurologist later this month to try and figure out how to manage the siezures which still haunt me. 

Until then have a good Christmas.

I want to thank everyone who prayed and sent good thoughts my way.   I love each of you and hope that your own lives are blessed with health and happiness beyond your fondest wishes.

joe

Seeds of my Death

I have seen my death.   It has nothing to do with the tumah that once invaded my wondrous melon.   It lies within the plastic confines of a product innocently named Pledge Wipes.  These are dispensed from an orange plastic envelope.  Each wipe resembles a paper towel that is thoroughly saturated in liquid pledge dusting material. 

My wife Amy has lovingly used this product to clean our wooden floors.  I have commented to her prostrate bottom, "I bet they make those on the ends of some type of stick". 

"I know," she smiled, "but I really like scrubbing them like this.  It really gets them shiny."  This loving act unwittingly turned our home into a deathtrap, which I discovered the next time I walked into the back room wearing my socks.  Her cinderelean efforts have produced a surface that makes Teflon feel like a gravel road.   If the space shuttle could achieve this lack of friction, it would require no tiles.   

Should I relax my concentration even an iota below left....right....left....right during my domestic sojourns, Darwin pulls his chair closer and turns up the sound.  Try to picture WJ Coyote in a new pair of Acme roller-skates.

So thank you to anyone who has worried about some rogue cells that tried to get in my way, but my dirt nap will be precipitated by a flurry of arms and legs and the dashing of my noggin upon some piece of furniture. 

In my stationary moments, I feel wonderful.  My seizure average is as low as it has been since immediately after the surgery.  I have mastered the chemo drugs and they no longer challenge me.   

I hope everyone has a great thanksgiving.  I suggest hugging everyone you have dinner with until they ask you to stop- you might not get the chance until next November- and that is just too long.

jobey

Another Dr Visit

Hello everyone.

I visited doc Taylor in preparation for the beginning of cycle four of chemo.    She was very happy that cycle three had passed by so easily and that some of the medication adjustments had worked out.  My blood work was good and I had normal counts with the exception of one type of white cell which we anticipated would be low based on the Temodar drug I take.    The siezures had been minimal the last days before the appt but I had noticed some dizziness.   This dizziness was not the acute type that accompanies a siezure but rather the I just feel unsteady all day variety.  We could not determine why these two symptoms seemed to have manifested at about the same interval during the visit.

A phone call a few hours later shed some light on the situation.   The level of dylantin, an anti-siezure drug I take was 34.3.  Theraputic levels should remain between 10 and 12.   So I had been walking around with enough dylantin in my blood to deter siezures in bull blue whales.  Can you guess the primary symptom of an elevated dylantin level? - for those of you who guessed general diziness- hug Bob Barker and pick up your SanFrancisco Treat.

So I ceased consuming the drug over the weekend and my level returned to normal.  So I will be taking a smaller dose moving forward.   This will not impact the next round of chemo which will begin on the 21st and run for eight days.  I anticipate it being as easy as cycle three, if not even more so.

I hope you all enjoyed your weekend.  Go see the Wallace and Grommet movie.  It will make you happy.

jobey

Where you been?

Hi everyone.

Thanks for the notes asking if I was ok.  I am actually feeling great.  The reason for not posting for a while is not:

-Feeling Bad

-I have become transluscent

-Abduction gone wrong led to painful urination experience.

The actual reason is much more sinister, I was Gary Bussee's personal assitant for several weeks.  This is a tough gig if you get it.  He kept me pretty busy with odd jobs.  One benefit is my new familiarity with most of the really big dealers on the west coast.  I had to leave him after one terrifying weekend where I regained consciousness in the Santa Fe bus terminal wearing a dress and holding a poodle.

So I am back after just finishing my third cycle of chemo and feeling great.  This was the best round yet.  I experienced almost no nausia and my energy was great.  The siezures are very managable.  If the remaining nine cycles are like this one, I will be able to take them with one lobe behind my back.

Halloween was a great weekend.  Aiden went as Batman and we had quite a few kids come to the house.  I  attended the halloween party at Aiden's preschool and had my eyes opened to the realities of teaching dudelings.  My hat's off to Miss Tammy and the other brave souls who do that job well every day.

Love to everyone who tried to keep reading even when there was nothing new to read. 

P.S.  The burger king thing is over.  One night seven guys in king masks showed up with a portable flame-griller and wanted to take a ride. 

jobey

Feelin Fine

Hey everyone.

Today is the 16th day since I took my last chemo drug in cycle two.  I am deep enough into my rest cycle that all of the queasiness and most of the fatigue from cycle two is gone.  I do not miss it.  I start taking the meds again on the 23rd.   

I went to the annual Garlic Party that is thrown by some good friends this last weekend.  Everyone takes a dish that they have prepared that contains a fair amount of garlic.  Each dish is laid out with a number and then everyone snacks.   People also have a drink or two and laugh.  Towards the end of the evening everyone votes for their favorite three dishes.  Winners get prizes, accolades and breath mints.  Amy took third with her mushroom cheesy tarts or cheesy mushroom poofs depending on your current needs.  Thanks to Rich,Shannon and the boys for a great time.

I also spoke to an old friend who was afflicted with a horrible neurological bomb called Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.  His story made me realize how lucky I really am in life.  If you have any extra good thoughts please send them to Brian.

Love to everyone reading.

jobey

Doc Update

Hello everyone.

I wanted to provide the promised update on my meeting with doc Taylor.  She and an independent radiologist compared the MRI that I had this week along with the one taken just after I finished radiatioon therapy.  They both concluded that there was no chnage and that the remaining tumah is showing no indication of beginning to change.  This is the best news we could have gotten.  She also indicated that my blood counts were where they should be again and that I can start round three of chemo on Oct 23rd. 

She suggested that I take a daily softener when I am am taking the chemo pills to combat the blockage, which is something that I am just going to have to live with.  That moves my daily pill intake to just under 300. 

Overall I am feeling great and enjoying autumn.  I am putting a few final things in the ground and mulching. 

Thanks to Lorraine for the link to the crazy stuff stuffed in MRI.  If you didn't follow it, take a few minutes.  There are pics of chairs stuffed into the things.

Love to everyone reading and take some time to be outside.  Oh-no movement on the KING project.  I will let you know when I find anything.

jobey

Be the King

Hi everyone. 

I have been extremely happy with your feedback on the creepy Burger King commercials.  I have been doing some research into the best way to cease this cultural tumah.  This research took me to BurgerKing's actual site where I discovered that you can be the King for Halloween if you want.  Or you can choose to be his subservient chicken.  I am not making this up folks-I couldn't.  To have your own little sojourn into the deepest of Dante's nightmares just click here: (make sure your volume is up enough to hear the music)

http://www.bkmasks.com/

For the MRI question....I dunno.  Once I left a ring on and it started vibrating like crazy.  I had them stop the process and the tech asked me if it got hot.  So I would guess that it would just burn the shit out of your leg from the inside.  What a bonus.

jobey

da tube...da tube

Hey everyone.

My siezures are still down.  I have had two since I last posted but they both came while I was asleep.   I don't mind them when I am out.  They do wake me up but I can always get back to crash land really easily.

I have an MRI this afternoon in preparation for an appt with my oncologist this Friday.  If you have never had an MRI of the brain with contrast, let me iluminate you.  Arrive and fill out paperwork designed to make absolutely certain that you do not have any metal in your body.  I enjoy this process because I had no idea there were so many ways in which you can get metal into your body.  My two favorite questions on the sheet are:

Penile implant (males only)   and IUD (females only)   Thank the heavens for this clarification.

At the completion of the paperwork they take you back to a room with lockers where you shed any external metal like watches and change into a gown.   When your ass is suffeciently bared for everyone, you go back to the room with the tube.  The temperature in this room is perfect for inducing the most pronounced nip-out of your life.  They ask you a few last minute and redundant metal questions and put in ear plugs.  You lay on a table which will lift you up to the tube level.  This table vibrates enough to rupture organs.  A thirty million dollar piece of machinery and the table that lifts you into it was a blue-light special.

The tube you are put into is roughly the diameter of a basketball.  It is not uncommon for my nipples to get held up on the edge.  If you have any claustraphobia, you best just kiss your sanity goodbye because you are royally hosed.  When you are fully inserted they turn it on.  There is no doubt that the machine is on as it is LOUD.  It is roughly equivalent to having a jackhammer operated six inches from your face.  Twenty minutes later you are pulled out of the machine, but the adventure is not over.  They have pulled you out to shoot iodine into your veins so they can stuff your ass back into the tube for round two.   Another twenty minutes of jackhammer land and you are pulled out and the operators say nice things to you about what a good sport you were.  I think this is because 30% of people who come out beat the shit out of everyone in the room.  If you don't do this, you are a good sport.

I will let you know how my oncologist appt goes on Friday.

jobey

Siezures are Down

Hi everyone.

I have some good news to pass on.  My siezures are down significantly.  I have only had one in the last four days.  Granted, this is the morning of day four, but I am confident I will breeze through.  This is the most exciting news since the surgery. 

The tumah has never caused me any pain or even given me headaches.  Its only manifestation, other than drooling and the inability to pronounce the word lettuce, has been siezures.  (Simple Complex for those of you keeping score)  Control of these buzzers, as I like to call them, could result in the freedom to drive again.  It would also eliminate my hearing Aiden ask me, "Daddy, did you just have a siezure?"

I will keep everyone posted on this new development.  I am also starting a campaign to ban Burger King from ever using the creepy "King"  mascot again.   It is just wrong.  If you would like to join me, please let me know.  I am also working on some new comedy material and need some feedback.  What is the maximum age at which a man can use the word "boner"?

Thanks for reading and I hope a tree near you is beautiful soon.

jobey

Blocked

A new side-effect of the chemo drugs has surfaced: BLOCKAGE!  Now I can go a day or two just like the next guy but...Tana's toes, it was bad.  So I hoofed it up to the local Osco and explained my dire situation to the pharmacist.  I must have cut this guy off in traffic or been a real ass to him in a previous life because he decided to take vengence upon me. 

The product he recommended was magnesium citrate, the sparkling laxative.  It actually says that on the bottle.  Imagine a product for de-BLOCKAGE that tastes like lemon mineral water.  The reccommended dosage 6.5 to 10 fluid ounces.  This exceeds the required dosage by a factor of 10. 

Unless you have full rolls of both charmin and bounty, an evening, the JC PEnney Christmas catalog and a dedicated and loving helper, do not use this product!  I cannot imagine the radio adds for the clinicial trials required for this baby.  "Are you of average height and weight?  Can you stay over one night?  Do you want to earn evey bit of $2,000.00?  Want to tell your friends  you took the Crap of Insanity?  Call Uncle Bob's last chance trials.  Must have at least one arm and be a self starter."

Who signed me up for this? 

Love to everyone.

jobey

Home

I am home from Nashville.  I had a great time.   The city actually reminds me of KC.  It has the same feel and the people are good.  Don't get me wrong, it has its share of dumb shits-they seem to be distributed across the planet homogeneously.   We spent one great night in a bar called the BlueBird watching some of the up and coming songwriters perform.  They were all really talented although the subject matter of their songs remained true to the country motto-they were sad as hell.

I have finished taking the second round of chemo drugs.  The queasiness is gone but I am feeling a bit exhausted.   I am always amazed how much a drug can impact your body.  I have an MRI on the twelfth and then talk to doc Taylor on the 14Th.  She will do another blood test and we will see if I am ready to take on the third cycle on Sunday the 23rd. 

I recorded a story for the KC MO public library dial-a-story line.  It is a phone number that kids can call in and hear a story read to them.  If you call 816.701.3456 before Monday the 10Th, you can hear me reading Aiden's favorite book.  It was a lot of fun and the lady asked me to come back and read a new story every month in the coming year. 

Now a note for the for those who enjoy bizarre musical journeys......apparently sometime in the 60's, Van Morrison wanted to get out of his contract with Bang records.  This site      http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2005/09/van_morrisons_c.html     is a place where you can listen to the 31 tracks that fulfilled his obligation.   My personal favorites are Ringworm and Freaky if you got this far.

Yeeeehhhhaaawwwwwwww

Hi everyone.

I am writing this from the business center of the Sheraton in downtown Nashville so I will need to be brief.  I can feel the eyes behind me willing me to be off this machine.   I have been walking around visiting some shops around 2nd and Broadway and having a great time.  I went into the Ernest Tubb record store and was just amazed at the oil paintings of all of the legends that adorned the walls.  I talked to the guy behind the counter and found out he grew up in KC.  His cousins run Bledsoes rentals.  He asked me about my head and I told him the brief story.  He reached over and shook my hand and told me to keep on humpin.  I told him that was my exact plan.   I walked next door and bought myself a big-ass cowboy hat and found out that guy grew up in BlueSprings.  It is truly one very small world. 

The chemo meds have got me feeling a bit sick.  It doesn't help that this hotel has interior glass elevators and the conference center on the top floor spins.  Everywhere I go is a new barf incentive.  I had a chance to see BB King play his 80th birthday bash last night but the tickets were $75.00 to watch him on the bigscreen from an adjoining room.  I passed.

Love to everyone who is reading.

jobey

Chemo Cycle Two

Hi Everyone

Yesterday was the beginning of my second cycle of chemo.   So I am waking up at night to make sure I take one of the drugs every six hours.  I am feeling great.  The reason for the gap between my postings has nothing to do with my health- it is entirely slack related. 

I have been putting some plants in the ground and involving myself in some projects.   One of those was reading some of my stories into a microphone and getting a recorded CD.  I am going to send the CD to the This American Life studios in Chicago.   A buddy who has an incredible studio is helping me out with this.  The initial tracks sound great and we will be fine tuning it in the next weeks.  Thank you David for your time. 

Someone said something to me about the scar on my head for the first time over the weekend.  Iwas in the Brookside Price Chopper by the meat and a woman looked at me and said," Someone really whacked you on the head? Huh?"   I actually turned around and looked behind me I was caught so off guard.  When I looked back she repeated it and pointed at my head.  It finally dawned on me what she was trying to say so I nodded and said," OH yeah."  then I pointed at her butt and said," That is a pretty big ass for the average shopper.  Don't you think?"  - She walked away.

That is all I have time for today.  I am rushing to get out of town.  I will write from the road.

love

joe

CHEMO CheckUp One

Hi everyone.

We went to KUMed on Friday and met with doc Taylor.  She wanted to look at my blood counts and talk over how I handled the first chemo cycle.  The great news is my blood.  I have rockin-amazing blood.  My red counts and hemoglobin are in the normal range as are most of my white counts.  The few white cell types that are just below the normal range are not going to be an issue.  Doc Taylor expected them to be low because of type of drugs I am taking and was surprised that they were not lower. 

We are going to address the fatigue through some dietary and lifestyle changes.  I need to dramatically increase my protein intake and have my buttochs vigerously rubbed daily.  I am excited that I do not need to take any extra drugs to support the CHEMO prescription.  I will begin my second cycle on September 26th.

We also discussed my ongoing siezures and how to eliminate them.  We decided to increase the levels of the two drugs I am currently taking.  We are all hopeful that we will find a balance between the enlightened state of 'siezure free' and that three dart stagger where Marlin convinces Jim to jump on.

I also want to send out a huge congrats to Jane.  I am really happy that the GLOD came out without a fuss and that you will not have to join the crappy club I got signed up for. 

Love to everyone reading.

hobaehr

I know I am alright when....

I can get a four year old ready in the morning.   As long as I can continue to accomplish this task, I am confident I have all of my faculties.  If I were to lose even a few, I would be hopelessly screwed.  Aiden is already my intellectually superior.  My only advantage is that I am large enough to dress him by main force, although the neighbors tend to shake their heads when I toss him into the car from the porch.

The most delicate step is the actual waking-a beginning is a delicate thing.  Waking must be accomplished deftly. An indirect approach will result in being late;time is always the enemy.  Remember that you are dealing with a superhero whos primary power is the ability to waste time.  The use of too much force in the waking process results in the need to deal with baelzabub.

The second step is breakfast.  Although this step opens the door for the beginning of questions, it is important for feeding and teeth cleaning to happen prior to dressing if you would prefer that cereal and toothpaste not journey with him on the front of his shirt.  Questions you can anticipate during breakfast include how the meal was manufactured and/or packaged.  You must also steal yourself to the question,"When will breakfast be ready?"  I have never considered myself slow at making a bowl of cereal but based on recent feedback, Rome rose and fell during my preparations.

While the child is eating you should make the most of your down-time to select today's clothing based on both the weather and the activities planned that day.  If the child will be spending any time with someone that has purchased them gifts of clothing in the last year, it is most advisable to dress the child in the clothing that was purchased by that individual.   If you cannot rememeber those kinds of things, take notes.  Questions such as," Where is that adorable little jacket I got him?" are landmines.

Remember to brush teeth immediately after the meal has concluded.   Children are masters at making you forget this step.  Kids take great pride in performing this task and enjoy showing a set of shiny teeth to other sentient beings in the house.  Keep a tight reign on this.  It is my experience that cats take no joy from this process and will defend themselves resulting booboo mending.  Remember-time is the enemy.

Now it is time for getting dressed, or as I like to call it, lets see how much smoke I can blow up dad's ass this morning.   Shirts are routinely placed on backwards although I have muttered the phrase,"tag in the back," so many times that my ears hurt.  The ability to place socks on is forgotten daily.

Now that the child is dressed, you falsely believe the battle is won.  Oh no.......now it is time for pooping.  It is also a good time for more questions such as, "Why are we always in a hurry in the morning?"

"Because daddy can't ever find his vodka."

Back to the Beginning

Hi everyone.  Last night I was thinking about how all of this started.  It ocurred to me that some of you might not know or remember so I thought I would put it down.

Waking up on the toilet is never good.  I have thought about this and I cannot come up with a single situation where having no knowledge of traveling to and mounting the throan is desirable.  If anyone out there posses that knowledge, please share.  The first thing that I noticed was that I was sharing the bathroom with three fireman.  I suppose it should be mentioned that they were actually EMTs but these areas of gray evade you.  I can imagine that for some twisted souls out there, three fireman in the bathroom is a party.  "I'm on fire! Hose me down!  Hose me down!"

One of the EMTs noticed I was up and started talking to me.  The words were crazy and only succeeded in my further disorientation.  "Joe.  Are you with me?  Can you follow my finger?  Joe, you had a siezure and now we need to take you to the hospital.  Do you understand me?"

I shook my head no.  I had already determined that whatever insanity I had landed in, the resolution was to get off this toilet and get right back into bed.

"I was restrained from standing.  "Joe.  We are going to take you to the hospital now.  We are going to put you in the dolly we have right outside the door.  We will help you.  Are you with me?"

"No.  I am not going to the hospital.  I am just going to lay down."

That is the moment that Amy's head popped around the corner and I saw the terror in it.  "I couldn't get you to wake up.  For a long time.  Please go to the hospital?"

Of course I will.  That was the first lesson in my instruction of tumah management.  The tumah messes with your head.  The knowledge of it messes with everyone who loves and cares about you. 

That is enough for today.   Love to everyone reading.

jobey

The Witching Hour

I have been told that the hour between 3:00 and 4:oo AM is called the Witching Hour and is the 60 minutes of every day owned by the boggles and firvulag that haunt our world.  I have never seen a ghost or anything remotely cool like that, but that is the hour every night where I have some weird-ass dreams that just keep coming.  You know the kind I am talking about, you wake up eight times and the dream starts over when you fall back to sleep and the greater the funk factor the deeper it sinks its claws.  Well in a pathetic gesture of healing, I am going to share last night's offering.

At some future point in our evolution, our brains are seperated from our bodies and placed into huge rounded metal housings that look like the serving platter mom brings turkey dinner to the table inside; comlete with handles so our body husks could carry them around.  This was convenient or something.  Ok - now for some bebe le strange.

Apparently the body did not get much physical excercise in this arrangement so a weekly rodeo was scheduled where you walked your body into a corral with about 100 other naked bodies - brains go to a balcony upstairs.  ( I apologize now for any scientific or logical failings.  Remember that this was forced upon me) Everyone;s body was hosed down with a cleaning solution as they enter the pen.  The th0ught was that a couple of hours of bumping together would satisfy all the requirements for touch and excercise the lower bones needed.  Well today's event got a bit moshy and before you know it there are dozens of bodies, feelin no pain, just running at each other at full speed.  The collisions were 'jackass' entertaining and it was all great fun until I popped my own head off.  (No more monkeys jumpin on the bed!)

I start trying to convince other covered brains around me to help out and pick up my head before things get really bad.  Someone says,"Do it yourself."  Then I actually have to endure the paradox conversation in my dream about how you cannot pick you you own head.

Wake up.  Rinse and repeat.  "Anybody seen my head?"

Wake up.......you get the idea.  What da fook????!  Someone come push the reset button!

On a health note, the flu like feelings that the first week of chemo brought are finally gone.  The siezures have also reduced again.  The second chemo drug, temodar, spiked my siezure activity.  I was averaging about nine per day over the holiday weekend and they were dingers.  So I am feeling pretty good.

Love to everyone who takes the time to drop by.

jobey

Really Bad Shows

After a long holiday weekend, I feel compelled to comment on the really bad television shows of our generation.  I am in a unique position to comment on this as Amy has the single worst taste in TV of any living person.  Her level of cheese never heard of milk.  She operates in the velveta range. One side-note:  Velveta is the single most difficult product to find in the grocery store.  It is never in the same place twice.  Where do you put it?  Dairy-snacks-automotive?  If you are ever organizing a scavanger hunt, be sure to include it on your list.

To be fair to Amy, I must cofess that my taste in toonage has its own share of rotel landmines.  My current playlist contains Angie Baby by Helen Reddy (the one where the psychotic teenage girl traps the neighbor boy in her radio so she can use him as a love slave) and Jackie blue by the Ozark Mountain Daredevils.

Now back to the bad TV list.  Please remember that this list is made by a guy.  You will notice that Baywatch and its ilk are not listed.  I never watched these kind of shows but boobs bounce in slow motion about every three minutes so how horrible can they really be?  I have also not included any reality shows.  I have never watched more of one of they shows than the brief seconds it takes to push the button so I have no valid opinion of them.

#3 - Saved by the Bell      Just sucks.  Only possibly entertaining episode would be that all the girls decide to permanently get rid of the dork kid only to discover he is the reincarnation of John Holmes and rock his world.

#2 - Knight Rider   You have the technology to create AI and you waste it on a Firebird?  It also starred a man that Germans made a pop star.  Germans are good at many things, creating good pop music is NOT on the list. 

#1 - Diagnosis Murder.  The winner, and unfortunately, one of Amy's favorite shows.  I occasionally walk in and find her watching this show.  If you have never watched this show-don't.  There is a spot reserved for you in the afterlife into which I will never be allowed.  The plot is roughly this: Dick van Dyke is a doc at a hospital that solves a lot of murders with the help of his son, a detective on the police force.    On the show the son is played by Dick's real life son, who is a big beefy blonde guy.  His character is supoosed to be quite the chick magnet.  The challenge is that whenever the camera turns its eye on him my television bursts into flames.  Young van Dyke is not a testosterone laden indvidual.   Watching him kiss a woman is actually damaging to your optic nerve.  Another strength of the show is  the ability of family pets to identify the villian within the first 90 seconds of the show. 

There you have it.  The three most horrible TV shows according to someone who used to have a brain tumor.

Love to everyone.  I hope you had a good weekend.

Failure to communicate

Prior to being told that I had a tumah, I used to forget things and do dumb shit all of the time-just like I do now.  There has been no increase in stupid-ass-episodes.  The difference is, back then I assigned it no particular importance.  It was just no big deal.  Tequila, acid, frog licking... these things take a toll on a person.  Losing your car keys nine days in a row, well it was just part of getting older, right?

Now it is a little different.  Spill your water at the table and it is only the opening salvo leading to the eventual drool cup fitting.  You second guess everything.  This is a drag when you deal with stupid people because you begin worrying that you are Mr Modo.

One morning this week,  I could raise no SportsCenter on the tube.  This instigated an investigation as to why.  Here are the facts as I best remember them:

DVD's worked.  Neither TV hooked to the Satbox would show channels.  My deduction-the satellite box is out.  A call to the installing company puts guy who pisses me off(gwpmo) on the phone.  I explain the situation to gwpmo in the hope of avoiding the twenty minutes of questions such as,"  Is your TV plugged in?"  I am not entirely successful as one of the questions I am actually asked is,"Were you in the room when you attempted to watch the program?"

I somehow manage not to call gwpmo a humpstain but the seed has been planted.  Am I losing it?  Was I in the room?  Gwpmo proceeds with the diagnostic.  Everything points to the fact that the box has stopped working.  I point this out time and time again.  Finally, gwpmo says the following which causes my eye to twitch in a manner which would make Inspector Dreyfus envious," What did you do to the setup between last night and this morning?  Things don't just stop working."

Thoughts race.  Is that it?  Have I seen the sign of my own oblivion?  Am I wandering the house at night moving cables?  What appliances have I rewired?  NO!  I am not an animal!  I am not losing it!  Saliva sprays the walls as I bellow," Things do just stop working.  That is how it works.  Things work and then they stop working."   Just like you would if I was there and had a fork.

A light on the box begins to flash green.  I inform gwpmo of this.  "Oh gosh.  That means your box stopped working."  I try to feel vidication but it is quickly swallowed by the terror filling me.  Did I just have this conversation?  Would it have been as horrible four years ago?  Is gwpmo taping this conversation to share it with coworkers?  From a point outside my own mind am I babbling and incoherent?

I am a size six and need it fitted for the right side of my face.

Groceries for Tumah

I have become convinced that grocery stores need to have a special checkout line for people like me.  I just can't understand them any longer.  Here are a few changes for the tumah line that I would appreciate.

Don't ask me for my chopper-card/henhouse discount card/ambiguous savings card.  If I had one, don't you think I would have damn well given you the thing by now?  Oh wait, its right here in my wallet but I thought I would just let you screw me blind because getting my wallet out is tiring. 

Stop asking me to fill out credit card applications.  I am thrilled that I could save ten percent on the $12.97 bill that maxed out your express lane, but if I want another credit card I will just open my mail.

Don't tell me that I have selected the incorrect number of items and that if I only got two more I could save some money.  I can't fit three boxes of waffles into my freezer you asshat.

When I say sarcastically to the person next to me,"When will Angelina and Jenn start hating each other and make up?" notice that it is sarcasm and do not put the stupid paper in my bag.  I am entertaining myself during the death march of food across the scanner.

Please send me home with more food items than plastic bags. Where has the lost art of bagging gone?  I suppose it lives with the ability to navigate four-way stops in Miami.   I remember a time before the tumah when skilled sixteen-year olds could fit hundreds of dollars worth of food inside two giant brown paper bags.  Now I face the difficult task of managing the following:

Milk - double bagged

Eggs - double bagged

Snickers - bag of its own

That's right...three items in five plastic bags.   Help me...I have a tumah!  I am supposed to be resting, not filling my basement with plastic.

Finally..take some speed- a diet pill or drink a red bull at the very least.  Life is far too short to be filled up with you for another second.

It is sad when all of your faculties begin to slip and you have these special needs. 

Love to everyone reading.

jobey

The Breeding Program

Hello and congratulations to the special few who got my subconscious message yesterday.  I hope that I can address the many cool questions that were posed.  The breeding program is really more of combination of mental capacities.  That is my fervent hope as I have been selected for melding with a plumber in Cleveland who goes by Beatrice and a schnauzer in San Diego named Pooky.  This will save the world from mutant baby jobeys although the world would be a good looking place.  One of my incredible proginy already walks the earth and I cannot imagine the global impact of more of him.  Our economy would colapse under a storm of questions that begin with WHY.

I think Jane's brain hurts because she has been to the Rainforest Cafe too many times.  I am surprised it has not exploded yet.  I have siezures when I just walk by that place.

Thank you also to everyone who sent in groundcover ideas - except Darden.  I was looking for groundcovers that are alive.  I am sure that blankets look great if you can match them to the house but.....seek help soon.

LOOK FOR THE CODE

WEll, the first day of chemo HAs come and gone and so far i feel VEry JOlliE.  i am eSpecially hopeful that there are no further drops in My mental acuity.  It would also be Nice if the Dreaded nausie remains at arms lengtH.  Everyone has has warned me  how bad it can be but I know that those badnesses are going to Slide right by.   Autumn is knocking and that  Beauty wIll heal body and soul.  Today i walked to the hardware store because the second of the CHeep garden hoses  I have beeN buying  sprung its fata leek.  i knew better but i was trying to save some dOugh.  I have been loving life because I am pUtting in the fall peRennials.  i am hopeful that the hard work will result in a Bounty of spRing flowErs.  a nEw house proviDes a new canvas to paINt on.  Great fun but lots of work.   If anyone out there knows a PROductive GRound cover that will trive in morning sun and Afternoon shade, please eMAiL me and let me know.  If it blooms, that is an addEd beNefit.  9

joe

what a sunday

Hello everyone. 

Chemo begins today.  I take the first pill in about one and a half hours.  I am going to purchase a plastic cover for my keyboard in case it comes to chunky toss.  To prepare for today I enjoyed a great Sunday. 

It started late morning when Amy and I were invited to a friend's home for a soup extravaganza.  We chose several soup recipes.  Five of us chopped, sliced, peeled and laughed.  At last the pots were filled and the cookin commenced.  We made a lunch of the first one finished; a chicken tortilla that had some peppers that stood up and said,"BANG!"(Bill, Doug, Shannon and other hot fiends will just love this.)   The rest of that batch and the others got divvied up into freezer containers and sent home with everyone.  What a great idear.  Thank you Kelly, Sue and Mike for opening your home and hosting such a fun event.

To finish the day off we drove to Lawrence for a late summer wedding.  It was filled with love and great people and was presided over by the Omnipotent Overlord of Carbon.  The bride and groom had a wonderful surprise for me when I went through the food line.  There on the table was a large pink brain with a tag indicating that it was indeed mine.  My brain had a wonderful strawberry flavor, jiggled appropriately when spooned onto your plate and came complete with a large hidden strawberry-tumah, which when found, was eaten with ceremonial vigor.  Thank you Jim and Tanya.  I hope you have more love and laughs than either of your souls can hold and that it froths out on the many people who care about you.

So I now feel ready to face chemo.  Thank you to everyone who has sent words and thoughts of support. 

ming the merciless   ( I shaved my head)

yeep ah boo la

                  Dainbramage is on vacation.  Here is a favorite from 1966.

doo leep vada doo do hahahaha do do dod dodod dododododododo blaheyha hem hem vidajwhoop

and another from 1973

Giant Robot could totally kick Ultraman's ass.  His finger rockets would blow up that goofball.  All he relly does is jump around until they other gy falls down and then he runs up and chokes him.  He is like the monster strangler.  Ok..so Johnny Socko is week.  I mean if you had control of a giant robot there would be some much cooler things you could do.  "Giant Robot..now rip out the monster's heart and eat it so the helicoptor can watch."    And another thing.  How stupid is the excuse that the little ultraman dude always uses?  "Ultraman was here?  I didn't see him."     I mean how did you not see him?  He is only about a half mile tall.  I'm pretty sure that every living creature in a ten mile radius looked up and was like...damn there is a big ass dude in silver leotards doing some major sissy dancing over there.  That is so wrong.

Dainbramage will return after he consumes the four cases of hamms he took with him.

Blessings

I did stand-up last night.  It was the first time in a very long time.  It went alright.  I did not bomb but I did not exactly burn like the sun either.  It was good to get back on the horse and I learned a few things that will help next time.  Thanks to Billiam, KevBob and Doogles for getting me drunk enough to actually get up on stage.

It was not really my target audience.  They were young, coffee-shop hipsters who were there to read angry poems about the brutal angst that accompanies the mid-twenties.   Some of them actually told cancer jokes.  I am not joking-three of them did.  Now I can tell a cancer joke, the zipper on my head and the time on the table getting the naked gray baked earned me the right but the subject is off limits for twenty-four year old art students with no love handles or kids to get in the way of their deep emotional conflicts.  Oh well....the ambulance always comes for us or someone we love.  Learning to laugh and love after that moment is the true blessing. 

Mutual of Omaha is People...You can count on when the goins rough.......Gone Fishin...instead..of just... a wishin.....

Can anybody sing that with me?  It was the opening jingle of a television show called the Sportsman Friend that I watched with religious fervor when I was a kid.  It was hosted by a man called Harold Ensley who traveled the country fishing for every critter that swam.  I loved it.    When I opened the paper this morning, I discovered the sad news that Harold died this week.  He fished for 92 years and his TV show was on for 48.  This news brought to mind again something profoundly beautiful that I heard a long time ago.

We are all given two gifts.  Something that we are good at and something that we  love to do.  If we are truly blessed, those two things are the same.  I believe that Harold was given that blessing.

Love to all of you.  I hope each of you finds the things that you love.

If you would like to know more about Harold and the show....please follow this link:

http://www.sportsmansfriend.com/

jobey

Boke a Rule

I broke one of my own rules this morning and paid the price.  I avoid the local morning television news for two reasons - local dip shits and dumbass on a global scale.  The weather had me a little curious this morning so I turned it on even though I know better.  Local news was no surprise.  The camera came up on the station intern wearing a raincoat and standing in front of a gas station or apartment complex.  Behind her is some yellow police tape.  Nothing is happening.  She offers this type of story intro.  "Well everything is quiet now Bob but at 3AM an unidentified man in a blue cap was standing here spraying bullets and this has local residents a little upset".

alright...standard stuff...brain is turning to oatmeal....time to add the raisins

Pat Robertson called for the assassination of the President of Venezuela.  He did this on the 700Club. 

Now I have to go get the paper.  Need more information...must sort out truth.   Not only does the Star confirm it but it is loaded with quotes.  Second seizure in five days rocks my world.  Please let me share with you a few of the quotes that sent me over the top.

Pat Robertson - Man of God (MOG)

" I really think we ought to go ahead and do it.  Its a whole lot cheaper than starting a war."

"We have the ability to take him out and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability."

Donald Rumsfeld Secretary of Defense (SOD)

"Our department doesn't do that kind of thing. Its against the law."

"Dammit Pat, that  is not the way we do things around here.  We do it and then lie about it.  Way to go!  GW is going to be righteously pissed at you now."

So I am starting my own call.  I am asking all of you that read this to do the following.  When you meet someone who watches the 700Club or worships with MOG, point at them and laugh and make duh duh derh noises.  I would also suggest asking them about the sixth commandment and how that fits into MOG's views.

On a different note.  The chemo drugs have arrived.  I should start the treatment on Friday.

Love to everyone.

jobey

Stupid and Slow

Hi everyone.

I have only had two seizures in the last four days!  This kicks ass.  Granted, during one of them I was chewing up sod in the front yard and barking at the neighbors," Visia the Moist is coming for you all.  Soon you will know what it is like to be truly wetted."  Amy smoothed things over with most of them except the woman whose dog I actually bit.  (That was a dilly)

Now that I am feeling so good, I have been using the additional time to think about- well-time.  How is it possible that you can spend five hours with family and friends and it feels like twenty minutes but the rise and fall of Rome passes during five minutes with a dumb-ass?   I have also come to believe that some varieties of stupidity are contagious.  The brain jumping infection is typically found at the workplace where it finds fertile ground for its insidious spread.  It prefers to strike on Mondays when it can attach itself to weekend stories which are typically longer and allow it to situate itself more deeply into the new host.  Here is an example:

"So we were at the lake.  My friend John has a cabin there.  Not the John you met.  That is a different John.  He is the John that used to work at Sprint but got layed off because his secretary said he used to look at her in a funny way.  I mean he did look at her in a funny way-but he looks at everyone in a funny way because of the way his nose looks next to his eyes.  Well any way it is not that John.  Actually that John has a cabin at the lake too but we didn't stay there.  We stayed with the other John.  We saw him at lunch once.  We went to some Mexican restaurant.  I can't remember which one but I think it is a green building.  Well this John has a cabin at the lake.  I can't remember the name of the lake-hmmmm....it sounded foreign..you know?   Oh well....while we were there....we fished for some fish and then we got in one of those boat things...and ate hamburgers."

THWAP!  You are officially infected.  The next person you encounter will get only glazed eyes, trembling fingers and the incoherent babbling of someone desperately climbing out of the dark pit into which they have been thrown. 

"Stop her....lake....JOHN!...stop....don't care...don't CARE!....please.....the building was green....ate a hamburger....stop!....the pain....the pain.....hold me...please?"

The only known cure is to speak to someone who is smart.  But who?  It must be an individual whose native brain is powerful enough to beat the horrid virus to death.  If they lack the required mental firepower by even a few watts, you will only trap them in the living hell which continues to expand within your own mind.  Without warning, the exact person flashes through the darkness.  You flee to their office before the disease sinks into your autonomic system and you forget to breathe.  You turn the corner...so close now.

There are a dozen people in line.  Half are sobbing," lake.....lake......lake....."  The remaining folks are unconscious on the floor.   As you shuffle to the end of the line a man screams.  A familiar and vacant stare greets you as you turn.  "Hi guys!  Did  I tell about going to the lake this weekend?"

You join the others on the floor.

Things I have Learned

Hi everyone.

Amy and I met with a local oncologist yesterday at KUMED.  We liked her and are comfortable with her providing the day to day administration of the chemo regimen that doc Levin set up in Houston.  She has worked with MD Anderson before as well as the evil ones, I mean our insurance company.

When someone with medical credentials has written down on paper that you have a brain tumor, it is the beginning of a very strange dance called the Have You Lost It ChaCha.  It plays itself out in the small rooms into which you wait for the doc to show up.  It begins with the doc's assistant looking over the top of your records binder and saying something like," This is all written down, but lets hear it from your own mouth."  After answering questions about this whole nutty experience, the conversation inevitably turns to seizures.  This topic baffles all questioners.  I enjoy watching the eyebrows slowly arch as it dawns on the interviewer that they are screwed and can only say things to me like," You are an interesting case.  You present both laterally and bi-laterally."  How do you reply to something like that?

"Oh yeah, well I painted my right nipple blue this morning and the seizures stopped."    

Step two is weight and blood pressure.   Based on hospital documents, I have weighed between 125 and 380 pounds since the beginning of the year.  The money I have spent on my wardrobe.

Next on the agenda is a series of physical tests designed to determine my ability to act like a monkey.  The tests all differ slightly, but have enough common elements that I can confidently conclude the following:

I can alternately touch my nose and the nose of a skilled medical practitioner regardless of their individual height, movement or level of halitosis.

I can walk heal to toe backwards and forwards even in small rooms booby-trapped with tables, stools and chairs.

My eyes can follow even the craftiest of fingers.

I cannot see fingers wiggled behind my head.  I can see the fingers when they wiggle in my peripheral vision. 

I can hear when someone whispers into my ear, "Can you hear me?"

I shout," holy shit" when someone pokes me with a needle even before they ask me if I felt it.

When someone tells me to resist them, they cannot move me.

When small people ask me to, "pull as hard as you can," they look really funny sliding across the table.

When someone misses the reflex spot on my knee with the rubber hammer, my leg does nothing.

I can remember the words Red, Barn and Forty-five for greater than one minute.

I can count backward from 100 by sevens really fast. 

.....and a lesson in the economics of medicine- something that I have learned about chemo medication.   It is really expensive.   Insurance makes it as affordable as most prescriptions.  Without insurance, a one year supply of drugs approaches six figures.   Let us heal you so you can die of starvation.   

Finally, the thing I have known from the very beginning.  The only thing that has ever healed me is being loved by you people and laughing at all of the crazy things that you bring into my world. 

Thanks for making me better.

joe

The Orange Hair and Aesthetic Growth

I finally got a picture of the orange hair posted.  If you cannot see it from the home page, click on the ABOUT link at the left.  (It be lookin a little thin too)

Tomorrow we meet with a potential oncologist at KUMed.  If she clicks then she will win the prize of walking me through the chemo for the next year. 

Finally, a note regarding the comments and e-mails I have received after viewing the Cryin at the Disco video.  I am sorry if I caused you any distress.  Lisa- to suggest that I was unkind in unleashing this horror upon you-that is not the case.   I am providing a service to the people I love.    by showing you the new low, I allow you to bask in a new sense of well being as you soar above it.  Today, I am going to offer you the opportunity to take another mammoth aesthetic leap forward.  The link below is not for the faint of heart.  This video is to Disturbing as Einstein is to the guy who asks the Supersize question.  I am not joking.  Your personality could be permanently altered.  But if you are strong enough, you will forever be enlightened.

jobey

http://fazed.net/common/content/out.php?id=9080

Give me yo blood!

Hi everyone.

I am still waiting to begin my chemo because the drugs are on back-order. Huh?  The concept is still beyond my comprehension.  You can get a taco at midnight but it takes a week to get Temodar.  Oh well. 

The real reason for this post is a request that you donate blood.  All of your blood is not required, just your platelets.  A lot of chemo patients need platelet transfusions at some point during the treatment.  You cannot reserve your platelets specifically for me.  This is a comfort to me when I think of many of you.  I am sure that any donation you make would find its way into the veins of someone who has a family that would be forever grateful. 

If you would like to donate, here are a few guidelines copied from the official material:

Vegans may only donate after eating a cheeseburger.

Anyone that was incarcerated in Mexico between January 02 and October 04 cannot donate.

No one born in the state of Florida may donate.

Doners must wait 48hours and have two bowel movements after consuming a Hamms beer.

I hope these are helpful. 

Thanks to everyone who keeps reading and sending me good thoughts.  Finally-for those of you who are brave enough.   Here is a link to a music video called Cryin at the Disco that can actually cause paralysis. 

http://fazed.net/common/content/out.php?id=9077

jobey

Story

Hello everyone.  I hope the folks in KC enjoyed the rain this morning as much as I did.  I have no good ideas in my brain so I am employing a ghost writer.  This writer has limited himself to birthday and father's day cards to this point but I am drawn to his irreverence for traditional grammatical structures and unique style.  I find his movement through tenses and narrative voices a brilliant commentary on the attempt to force cubism into a post-capitalist society.

(The work is untitled)

Once upon a time there was a friendly lightening bug.  And Aiden catched them and put him in a jar and he lighted up all around the house and then I let him go in the house and he lighted up all around the house.  Now me and my Grandpa catched some and there wasn't any out in the yard.  And then it lighted up and it was friendly and then it sewed people back together. 

Wow-don't we all need to be sewn back together?  Please send some feedback if you want to.  I will not pass it on as I doubt he would be the least bit interested.  Artists!

joe

Good Brain...Good Brain

Hi everyone. Great news from Texas.

We met with doc Levin today.   The latest MRI indicates some great news.  None of the potential negative affects from having another person put his hands into your brain have manifested.  Two of these possible conditions are having an empty pocket in your head or a cyst.  Brain cysts are exceptionally good things not to have as most people who do have them experience short term memory loss and poop a lot.

The MRI also showed that the tumor has not increased in size and is not showing any tendencies that it is currently growing.  It appears that the head baking accomplished the goals what we hoped that it would.    This is excellent news.

Next up is one year of chemotherapy.  Specifically, I will have twelve cycles of 28 day treatments.  I will take pills from home for about half of the cycle and then just monitor for the remaining cycle.  I have been told that I will be very irritable for the last five days of the cycle and to warn those around me.  I will be taking my first pill this Friday so mark your calendars now.  Other probable side-affects of the treatment will be nausia and a strong belief that I am a penguin.

More good news:  I would estimate that I have regained about 75% of my taste.   

My deepest love for everyone who is reading and leaving comments. 

joe

Traveling Orange Prayer

Hi everyone.

We leave for MD Anderson this weekend so that I can meet with my oncologist on Monday.  I will write a 'Neurons' post upon my return with the details of that meeting.  One piece of great news: my taste seems to be recovering.  I would estimate that I am enjoying about 50% of the taste I used to have but I no longer have the TAB aftertaste.  This is excellent news. 

I will be sporting a new dew on my drive.  I wanted to dye the remaining hair on my head a platinum blonde color.  I thought that if I was going to look a little odd it might as well be an odd of my own selection.  Amy applied the color and I left it in for 90 minutes before rinsing it off.  Upon emerging from the shower, I noticed that my hair never made it to blonde.  Somewhere along the journey it must have experience a blowout in a little town I like to call Orange.

I am going to take a few days and see how I like it.  I will be wearing a hat during the hours spent driving through Oklahoma.  This is my prediction of conversations at most gas stations in the red-dirt state.

"What the hell is that Melvin"

"I dunno Artie but I say we shoot it."

"He-he-he-he.  Dang good ideer Melvin.  Gimme my deer gun."

I would also like to mention to the individual who stapled the prayer to my tree, if you happen to be reading, no need for a repeat on that one.  For those of you that have not herd this story.......I noticed something white on the tree in the front yard.  Closer inspection revealed a folded note card stapled to the trunk.  Yes stapled.

Unfolding the card revealed something called  YOUR Prayer OF FAITH.  The prayer was probably written by Hermine Melville.  I offer several excerpts from its text:

Wash all of my filthy sins away in the precious blood that you shed......

My Lord and my God, have mercy upon my soul, a sinner....

Dang!  That sure makes me want to join up, how about you?  I thought I had been singled out but then I saw another down the street and realized I was just a random casualty in a Puritanical Staple By.  My only comment to the perpetrator of this crime would be to consider how God might feel about you ramming staples into trees, a creation that I am sure is quite beautiful as it is.  (How would you like it if I wrote down my beliefs and stapled them to your forehead?)  Unfortunately I will never know.  The prayer contained no references to a church or organization.

On one last health related note, I am feeling great.  I have only had one seizure in the last three days and it was very minor.  Thank you to everyone who has helped heal me.

joe

Transitions

I am in the middle.  The last radiation session was Friday the 22nd.  When I say last, I truly mean the very last.  They have pumped me full of the lifetime dose of rads deemed acceptable by people who decide these things.  If I were to have any more the chance of radiation poisoning is no longer acceptable.  I guess it would cause a problem with my brain.  We definitely want to avoid that.  Can you imagine if there was something wrong with your brain? 

I am feeling fine.  Due to some unsightly hair loss on my temples, Amy has given me a buzz bowl cut that is funky.   I think I would win a Billy Bob Thornton Slingblade look-a-like competition.  Ummyeah.  The ability to enjoy food continues to elude me.  I am experiencing more flavor than I was last week.  I now have a palate that ranges between dog shit and cardboard.  One bright spot is sweet corn with butter.   

Next up on the agenda is a visit to MD Anderson on Monday, August 8th.   This visit is with Dr Levin.  He is the oncologist who will be determining what form of chemo will be placed into my body and how long.  Until that appointment, I don't have many details.  Preliminary discussions indicated that I will probably take a pill from home.  The side-effects of this particular drug are much less intense than those most of us are familiar with.  I will get these details out after the consultation.

I want to thank everyone who shuttled me to my baking sessions and then breakfast.  I do not miss the appointments but I miss my mornings with you.  I also want to thank everyone who finds a way to make me laugh.  Nothing heals me more completely.  It has been hard for me to sleep lately.  The tumah has been crying.  Think how horrible it must be to feel so lonely in the head of a man blessed with the love of so many beautiful people. 

On a very sad note, TBall is over.  It is difficult to express my sorrow. 

joe

No Taste

Hi every0ne.

Tacos:medium-rare steak with bleu cheese: pepperoni-feta-green olive pizza 

Oh these were a few of my favorite things.  I enjoyed them because they tasted damn good.  Thanks to my continued head baking, you can now add rice cake to the list.  The rads have dramatically changed my sense of taste.  This side affect, which no one ever warned me about, started as a reduction in taste.   Imagine if someone installed a dimmer switch on your taste buds.   Over the course of about ten days I noticed that food was less and less enjoyable with every meal.  Then the dimmer hit zero.

Now, almost everything has the same taste- aluminum or horse's  ass.  Having never tasted either of these scrumptious flavors before I cannot be sure which one it is.  The comparison is irrelevant as neither are high on my list of must tries.  Sweats are a slight exception.  I had a Krispy Kreme donut this morning that I actually enjoyed. 

So I am taking this opportunity to drop a few pounds.  It is pretty easy when there is no temptation.  If raw spinach and steak taste the same, I might as well eat the spinach.  UMMMMMMM!  I did talk to the doc today and he said that the taste buds should recover when the radiation stops.  I am thrilled about this.  The thought of never being able to enjoy a good meal is terrifying.

I want to take a moment and thank everyone that dropped me a suggestion on a new style for my coif.  I will not be taking any of the offered advice as it sucked.  It does warm my heart that the folks I love are as twisted as I am.  ( I particularly liked the dog hair suggestion Lisa -that is wrong wrong wrong)

Two weeks of baking left and then Amy and I are off to MD Anderson to meet with my oncologist about a possible chemo regimen.  I am hopeful some taste is back by that trip so I can take advantage of the seafood. 

Love to everyone who is reading.   

joe

Empenada = Empty

Hey everyone.

Anyone ever had an empenada?  A Mexican pastry filled with meat and cheese?  Darn nice things if you ask me.  So it was no surprise that I found myself selecting it as one of my two items offered on the build your own lunch at a local On The Border.  I chose chicken filling over ground beef in a ridiculous attempt at being healthy.

My anticipation peaked as Cindy delivered our plates with the standard warning about the intense heat of the china.  I used my fork to cut my little empy in half and cool it sufficiently to avoid burning my mouth and eliminating my ability to taste for the next week.  No steam came out.  In fact, nothing came out.  Looking inside, I discovered the reason-no chicken.  I flagged down another server as Cindy was smoking out back.  I explained my lack of lunch filling. 

"There was nothing in it?" her tilted head inquired.

I chose to reply only by pointing the open end of the failure at her. 

"Gosh!" dropped from her confused mind.

"Gosh!' I repeated.  "Can you just bring me a taco?"

She disappeared.  Moments later, Cindy, her cigarette cut short by the unfolding horror at her table, rushed up.  "I heard you had a problem with your empenada."

"I don't have the problem.  The thing is just empty."

"Empty?"

Again I resorted to pointing the empty end at her.  She left the table perplexed.  Moments later my replacement taco was delivered by a blue oxford shirt ironed to within inches of its life.  Within the starchy resin resided a child whom I believe is still driving under his permit.  The package screamed assistant manager.   "Heard you had a problem with your empenada," he crooned while depositing my taco on the table.  My seizure was intense. 

Thankfully, Scott broke the routine.  "Was there a hole in your empenada?"

"What?" was all I could manage.  "There was no 20 point inspection-I just tried to eat the damn thing."

"Did the chicken ooze out somewhere?"  Scott squeaked never realizing how close he came to having my fork stuck into his eyeball.   I did a Vanna White above my plate offering him to find any oozed chicken.  "I just can't understand how that would happen?" he offered at the end.

"Maybe one of your prep cooks smoked a j before work?"

I could see the tension build in Scott.  "Well I hope you like that taco!"

"Gosh yeah."

The hope of actually eating brought on by Scott's departure was short lived.  One by one the other employees approached the table to ensure their place in Border folklore.  To elminiate the need to meet each of them I just sat the orpah at the end of the table for them to gauk at will.  In the end, I went home and had a nice nap. 

Love to folks reading. 

Hair Loss

Hi everyone.

The first side affects of the radiation treatment have come calling.   Fatigue and nausea are still absent but some hair has begun falling out.  Radiation does not cause all of your hair to fall out as chemo does.  It is much more insidious.  It kills the hair only at the spots on your scalp where it enters the body.  One place on my head that the beam enters is my right temple.   That silver dollar sized spot is now populated only by a few rogues.  Angry hairs that never fit in and are now free to stick out in any direction they please.  Everyone else has headed out for cooler pastures.  The look is very punkish. 

My fear is that the other spots will follow.  My personal treatment requires the tumah to be baked from five different angles.   If the other four entry points go feral then I will make the official leap into the land of mange.   Unlike chemo, radiation hair loss does not typically come back.  The follicles are not sick but dead.  Woohoo!  I see several options should this come to pass. 

Shave my head and develop a taste for lollipops. 

Wear dew-rags and hats.

Let it go and begin barking at people that stare at me in public.

This is pretty tough decision.  Please send me what you think would work or let me know if you have a brilliant alternative that I have not considered.

joe

Tee Ball III 'My first groin pull'

Hi everyone.

I hope you had a good holiday.  I did. 

Tonight's practice had a new wrinkle.  We scrimmaged.  It is important before we move forward that you remove all preconceptions you might have regarding the word scrimmage and the rules generally associated with baseball and its derivatives.  Instead, try to think of a scrimmage as an opportunity for even more 3 -  5 year olds to run amok and parents to shake their heads.  Scrimmage = Entropy Actualized.

The basic rules are as follows.  Every kid on each team bats once per inning.  When he hits the ball he runs to first base.  When the next boy hits the ball, the runner on first runs to second.   The defense valiantly attempts to field the ball and throw it to first base.  As their are no actual outs, this defensive move is repeated ad nausium regardless of the number of base runners.  This is apparent to observers after they hear,'Throw it to first,' repeated for the six hundred and ninth time during the second inning.  (We are teaching fundamentals here, its not about competition.)

I took up the challenge and offered to coach first base.  Here is a brief description of my responsibilities.

Meet the bewildered first baseman from the other team.  This generally involved a brief description of his role in the coming melee.  I explained his basic responsibilities were to catch the ball in the air if he could, field any grounders hit to him and step on the base prior to the batter touching the base and stand on the base and catch any throws from teammates should the ball be hit to them.  My explanation was apparently flawed in almost every way as none of my instructions were ever successfully completed.  If I had the opportunity to work with only one kid during the course of the game, I truly believe my concepts would have built upon each other for his benefit.  However, the opposing coach sent a new wide eyed little urchin my way each inning. 

Encourage the batter to run to the base after hitting the ball.  This involved me punctuating each shout of 'HERE!' with frazzled point at the orange rubber mat serving as first base.  I count this my greatest success of the evening as most of the kids actually made it to the base in less than thirty seconds.  This is not to say the players on the Grey Team are not superior athletes blessed with blazing speed.  It is the chosen route that requires improvement.  The primary impediment involves the inability to select a spot in which to place the bat.  Imagine four year olds who have manage to lose fire trucks in every room of their house standing still halfway down the baseline scratching their heads as they mull each blade of grass as a suitable repository for their plastic weapon.

Explain to the first base runner his next assignment.  When the next batter hits the ball you need to run as fast as you can to second base.  My early mistake was failing to ask if the scantest knowledge as to the location of second base existed.  I quickly corrected this but without any impact.  We finally resorted to the rarely used Second Base Coach whose responsibility was to stand near second base and scream,'Here!'!' while pointing at the rubber mat at his feet.  I am hopeful that I did this in a more refined manner as one time I stole a look at him and I could see the bulging cords on his neck through the spray of spittle.

I am embarrassed to admit that twice during this activity, the base runner ran into the field to battle for the ball. The first baseman, having listened to my fevered instructions and knowing how imperative it was that someone run to second base, took it upon himself to do so.  Parents on both teams were outraged by this and began huddling together.  I could not hear the words but the pointing and stares left no doubt that I would soon be pulled. 

Then it was time for my boy to step to the plate.  We have been working on hitting and I was excited to see the fruits of our labor.  We were not disappointed - a line drive single in the five six hole.  Just as I turned to give him the thumbs up, I saw it happen.  He stumbled and came up limping bad.  Tears filled his eyes as looked up at me, "I hurt myself Dad."   

'Where does it hurt dude?"

'Right here Dad," he sobbed as he gestured to his crotch.   AAYYIIIII!  Groin pull.  Those who've had-em need no explanation.  No explanation will work for those who haven't.  He still limped as fast as his little legs would allow down to second base with the next hit.  I was one proud pappy. 

I was about to pull him from the game when it fortunately ended.  A dirt with worms from Sheridan's custard made everything better again.  I kissed him and he told me he was going to dream about fireworks and lightening bugs.   

Much love to everyone who is reading.  I hope you dream about fireworks and lightening bugs. 

Storms

Hi everyone.

It stormed all day and evening.  Woohoo!  I love storms.   I love the calm before the push when the cool breeze spills out of the coming chaos and reveals a color that no artist could ever emulate as the leaf bottoms flash beneath the roiling darkness in the sky.  Waiting for the big lightnings to come closer is the sweetest tension.   I secretly hope that one will strike the tree in the front yard so that I can feel my chest thump as the thunder crashes around me.

Then the rain comes and brings with it the smell and taste of life.  It is the essence of purity.  That fragrance is the breath of the world.  It has a healing power.  I strongly suggest that you step out into every storm that finds you and breathe deeply.  Breathe down into your toes.

Mental Storms -  I have received several questions regarding the seizures that rage in my head from time to time.  I want to assure everyone that they are nothing like the flopping, flailing, frothing monsters portrayed in film and really good radio broadcasts.  Granted, those seizures do exist and many people endure them.

My seizures, or 'heaters' as I often refer to them, are much less violent.  They typically begin as a hot flash. Often times they progress no further than this.  While my little private glimpse into menopause is running, I can continue conversations and people around me may not notice that something is up unless I scream at them about inconsequential things.   The next progression is dizziness and the same feeling you get when you stand up too fast.  The dizziness can cause me to fall down if I am on my feet but this is not always the case.   It is extremely rare that an entire heater last longer than 30 seconds and they can run for less than ten. 

The point I want to emphasize to everyone is that my brain storms are not violent or painful unless I happen to get really dizzy and fall down.  Even if I do fall down, indicating that the seizure was one of the stronger ones I have, I am still aware enough of my surroundings to make it a controlled fall.  I never lose consciousness.  The biggest negative of a heater is the rampant frustration that I experience afterward.  This frustration is born of the anger that I am not in full control of my body.  I am sure this feeling is no different from that experienced by folks who are incontinent or have turrets.   I like to think of it in terms of the Woody Allen movie Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex but Were Afraid to Ask.  I want to find the little dude in the white smock who is VP of Seizure and ask how hard it is to push the 'NO' button.  So please eliminate the picture of me thrashing on the floor from your mental box unless you derive some twisted pleaure from it. 

Love to everyone.  Radiation is rocking and I am feeling great.   Now go and blow shit up this weekend.

I am afraid

Hey everyone.

I have no Tee Ball yarn to spin.   The practice was canceled due to the rain we had today.  I am really disappointed.  I got to hang with Aiden anyway.  We went to Loose park and watched the ducks and turtles.  Anyone who has ever spent time with a four year old knows that they can pose a lot of questions.  When it comes to questions, Aiden is to other kids as an AK47 is to a muzzle loader. 

We learned how webbing helps ducks swim.  Why they leave wakes when they swim.   That algae is the nasty stuff that grows when the pond's chemistry is all messed up.  We also estimated the depth of the water every 15 feet along the bank.  It was a very calming stroll around the park.

I needed this as my life was placed in mortal jeopardy three times today and it had nothing to do with seizures, radiation or medication; it was while sitting in the front seats of cars.   My current seizure frequency prohibits me from driving.  If I were to have one behind the wheel I could hurt people.  Thankfully, I am surrounded by folks who offer to drive me places that I need to go; some of whom actually know how. 

I have come to think of the passenger seat as the 'Pucker Seat'.   At one point today, my chauffeur determined that eight feet was an acceptable distance to begin the process of slowing from 35mph to a full stop.   When I next tried to get out of the car I could only do so by taking the entire passenger seat with me.    Apparently, the combination of my already turgid buttocks and enough fear-induced adrenalin to fuel Attila for several days has the ability to create a complete vacuum.   When we finally broke the seal and dislodged the seat, we determined that we really weren't so keen on putting in back in.

So I live in fear.   Yet my fear stems not from the knife, the radiation or medication; my fear is that I will end up reflected in the eyes of a bored high school student in the next version of Red Asphalt.

Love to everyone reading.  Remember that laughing and loving are the greatest gifts in the world.

Halfway Almost Sorta

Hey everyone.

This morning the big metal dragon started breathing into my head again.  This is the third week of a six week treatment.  Woohoo!   There is a song that I have been hesitant to take into the treatment room.   This morning I played it.  They are baking my noggin and if I want to listen to dark side of the moon backward with red paint all over my body I am damn well going to do it.

So I dropped Joe Jackson's Cancer into the player.  (For those of you not familiar with the tune, the lyrics center around the theme that everything gives you cancer and that the surest way to avoid dying is to stop living.  Additionally, the tune just moves.  It wasn't long before Kim and Harriet were grooving around the room and shouting back at Joe things like, "Ain't that true!"  It was my best session yet.

The seizures are increasing in frequency and intensity.  SHIT  I am still waiting on some herbs that my acupuncturist is ordering.  These have been really successful in the past at helping keep the buzzers in check but I have been off of them since prior to the surgery.  There was concern about potential bleeding impacts of the herbs, but since all of those dangers have passed, I am ready to start taking them again.

The worst part about seizures are when Aiden sees me have one.  "Daddy, did you just have a seizure?" is the most terrible question you can ever be asked.   I have to answer truthfully; its fairly obvious when I have a strong one.  The sadness in his eyes is paralyzing.

Given all that, I am feeling great.   I had a real breakthrough this weekend during my meditation.  It began when I was thinking about how wonderful the freedom will be when this is all over.  Freedom from the daily thoughts,  fears, and adjustments that you learn to live with.  I was surprised how much I long for that freedom.  The powerful connection between freedom and the absence of the tumor clicked for me.  When I am free of all of the worries, useless concerns and guilt, the tumor will be gone.   I am now striving to live within this freedom in each m0ment and breath.

The breakthrough was helped by an incredible experience Saturday night.  I was able to sit in a magical grove framed by branches and roofed with stars.  Inside this magical spot, music played, friends laughed and hugged , and we all celebrated those things that are best in life.  It was wonderful and I want to thank Doogles, Billiam, Jammer and everyone else that brought the spell to life.  You are all special and I love you.

Thank you all for reading.  Tomorrow (Tuesday) is another TeeBall practice.  I cannot wait.  I will report on what the beautiful ones accomplish.